Number One: Green
by acro acro
Summary: Now in their Seventh Year, living together and sharing the same Common Room, having EVERY SINGLE FRIGGIN' class together, and dealing with all the responsibilities that came with being co-Heads, Hermione felt the weight of her crush… well, crushing her.


Number One: Green

Hermione heard the quiet snap of the portrait door closing, breathed a sigh of relief, and exited her bedroom to enter the Head's Common Room. She had her supplies for the morning in hand, and figured she had about fifteen minutes to get set up before practice started out on the Pitch. She set her iPod and speaker, a squashy pillow, her bag of nail polish selections, and her contraband color sample in the wide window seat that provided her a perfect, if distant, view of the Quidditch Pitch. Then she dashed back into the kitchen to pour a glass of juice and quickly eat a cup of yogurt and slice of bread – she didn't have time for toast – before she clambered up into the window to settle the pillow behind her back. She picked up her iPod, selected her personal playlist, and docked it into the portable speaker. It tickled Hermione to no end that, while Hogwarts had no electricity, she was at least able to use battery and solar powered devices. Her parents had gotten her a mini solar panel for her birthday, as well as an array of cords for various electronics, and - _voila! –_she had a working iPod in the Head's Common Room of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Brightest witch of her age, indeed.

She glanced out the window to see small figures walking out onto the Pitch. She was far enough away that she couldn't see the color of the uniforms, but she knew exactly which House was practicing right now. After all, the Head Boy was Captain of his House Quidditch team, and he'd just left the room a mere ten or so minutes ago under her secret gaze. She loved the way he looked in his Quidditch uniform. He carried himself like he was born to wear it, unlike Ronald who looked distinctly shabby and ill-fit for his Keeper uniform. It wasn't that Ronald's uniform was old or didn't fit, it was brand new just like everyone else's team robes; if Hermione had to articulate the difference, it was really that whatever Ronald wore looked cheap and ill-fitting. No matter how nice the robes, how well made the shoes, something about the way that boy carried himself made any outfit the worse for wear. Unlike her co-Head. Everything he wore looked like it was made for his body alone.

Hermione snorted. Yes, probably because all of his clothes were made for his body alone. His family was bloody richer than Midas. His socks probably cost more than her entire wardrobe. And his ties… Well, Hermione didn't know of anyone else in the school that had their own custom ties made in their House colors. What was even more amazing was that even though this flagrantly disregarded school uniform requirements, the Malfoy's had all been sorted into Slytherin for so many generations, Hermione imagined that Draco's ties WERE part of his school uniform requirements.

One of those particular ties had been discarded on the couch by her illustrious co-Head yesterday evening, and she had snuck it up to her room after he retired to his private suite last night. If she was going to match her color perfectly, she needed a color sample, and so the tie in question was now laid out in front of her array of green nail polishes. She had seven different shades of green, ranging from Kelly-green down to Hunter. Three shades were varying degrees of emerald, and she was 95% sure one of these would be a match.

Hermione glanced back down to the Pitch, and saw the assembled team zipping around on their brooms; presumably meaning Slytherin House team Quidditch practice had officially commenced. She knew from past experience it would be a minimum of two hours before Draco returned, but since tomorrow was the first of this year's matches against Gryffindor, she figured she had more than three hours to complete her secret task.

She fingered the tie, black with green stripes (as opposed to green with silver stripes like the rest of his House), and held it up in the sunlight.

She could smell his cologne on it.

She sighed. There were no security cameras here, and it would be at least two, if not three hours before he returned. Just once, she would indulge this weakness. When else would she get the chance?

Hermione held the tie up to her nose and sniffed.

Shite. It smelled just like him. She bowed her head, burying her face in her hands, tie and all.

This was getting so unbearably painful. Hermione didn't know how much longer she was going to be able to keep up her cool, indifferent façade around Draco. Yes, they'd progressed beyond the insults and screaming matches in the hallways from their younger years. Yes, they'd managed to get along civilly in their advanced classes last year whenever they were partnered together. Yes, they'd managed to emulate Dumbledore's model of inter-house unity with their carefully mannered cooperation as co-Heads this year. Yes, they'd even progressed so far as to drop the last names and address each other as Draco and Hermione. But the longer they lived here and shared this space together, the harder it was getting for Hermione to function normally.

She looked out the window again. Naturally, she was able to make out which flyer was Draco because of the way the sun was glinting off his hair. Hermione groaned in frustration. It wasn't bloody fair! While it was true that Draco wasn't her enemy anymore like when they were children, there was no way in God's Green Earth that he'd ever look at her, Hermione Granger, Muggle-Born Extraordinaire, as anything other than a glorified lab partner. This Head's thing they did together this year, it was really just a long term school project they were partnered in together. The fact that she'd secretly, quietly, and completely surprisingly fallen head over heels for him over a year ago was not something she cared to ever make him aware of.

Because she knew she didn't stand a chance.

And there was no way she was going to stand around and set herself up for that kind of rejection.

If Draco Malfoy had a 'type' of girl he was interested in for companionship, Hermione knew she'd have to shrink a couple inches, lose a few pounds of muscle and curve, and of course, shave her head and wear a blond wig.

Hmm, maybe she could get Luna to donate a couple feet of her tresses….

Ugh! Hermione rolled her eyes at that ridiculous thought.

And she knew there was nothing, per se, _wrong_ with the way she looked. But at 5'6" she was at least three inches taller than any of the tiny blondes she'd seen him associate with. And every one of those girls fit the category of 'waif-look' quite perfectly. Like American super-models, they all had skinny arms and legs, barely existent hips and bums, and apparently magically enhanced bust lines. Honestly, what ninety pound seventeen-year-old girl naturally has a D-Cup bust? And why, oh why, did there seem to be so many of them at Hogwarts?

Hermione looked down at her hands. Ink stains and a few scars from potion burns. Short, practical, unpainted fingernails. Her toes were also currently unpainted. She intended to remedy that today. While she'd finally taken control of her curls a couple years ago, after her Fourth-Year Yule Ball Experience showed her how much of a difference a little effort made, taking control of the rest of her appearance simply for the sake of personal vanity had been slow to develop. But here she sat, eyebrows groomed, skin clear and glowing, curls tamed into a loose braid that draped over her shoulder, contemplating the state of her neglected nails.

Comparing Draco's tie to the bottles in front of her, she was rather surprised to discover that the green of his tie wasn't emerald, but evergreen. Lovely shade, really. Very natural. Christmas-y, even. Setting the other colors to the side, and propping the tie up against her speaker so that she could look at it and see the activity out on the Pitch at the same time, Hermione uncapped her Gryffindor Red and set about polishing her fingernails.

Her mind drifted back to what inevitably had been the beginning of her current dilemma. It had happened towards the end of Fifth Year, one evening when she and Ronald had been patrolling the corridors. Being a Prefect had its distinct advantages, like the Fabulous Prefect's Bathroom, and it's disadvantages, like stumbling around dark hallways at midnight looking for stray students in various forms of trouble. And Oh! The trouble Hermione discovered that night.

_Hermione was bickering with Ron as they clattered down the steps towards the dungeons. He wanted to ditch out early and go back to the Common Room and finish the Chess game he'd been in the middle of with Seamus when she'd dragged him out by his collar two hours ago. It was nearly midnight now, and all they had to do was patrol the classrooms of the dungeons and they'd be done._

_As she rounded the corner, she saw a couple wrapped around each other, pressed against the wall at one of the insets under a portrait. The girl was perched on the sill of the inset, with one leg wrapped around the boy's waist. Her other leg was currently being held by the boy, who was snaking his hand up the side of her thigh and under her skirt. Watching the boy's hand smoothly dive under said skirt to grasp the girl's bum and pull her closer had shocked Hermione out of her childhood. Never before had she witnessed the excitement and thrill of the physical passion such as she was witnessing now. Never before had her cheeks flushed at the thought of being touched like that. She had NEVER considered herself in the kind of role that was currently being played out in front of her. It was… HOT._

"_Oi! You lot! Get a room, for Godric's sake!" Ron shouted at the couple. The two broke apart, and Hermione found herself gazing into the smouldering eyes of her natural rival, Draco Malfoy. Malfoy, who currently had his hand under the skirt of one Daphne Greengrass, Resident Whore of Slytherin._

_Malfoy smirked at Hermione._

"_Granger…" he said in a low, seductive growl._

_Shite! He looked like he wanted to EAT her! Hermione realized belatedly that this was what lust looked like. Devouring, consuming lust. It wasn't directed towards her, she just happened to interrupt him in the middle of slaking said lust. Her mouth popped open in horror as she felt her face heat up impossibly red._

"_Malfoy! Merlin, I'm going to have to bleach my eyes! Ten points from Slytherin from each of you for being out after Curfew, and another five for being so disgusting in public! Hermione, cover your eyes!" Ron roared at the couple as he tried to put his hand over Hermione's face, ostensibly to keep her from witnessing the scene in front of them._

_Hermione batted Ron's hand away. "Ronald! Cut it out!"_

_She saw Malfoy straighten his tie as Greengrass hopped down from the portrait inset and smooth her skirt down. Greengrass glared at Hermione and Ron, and looked like she was about to make some delightfully slutty, bigoted remark, when Malfoy grabbed her hand and tugged her towards the dungeons. Right before they turned the corner, Hermione caught Malfoy's eye again. He smirked, and actually WINKED at her, and then they were gone. Hermione could hear Greengrass's giggles floating back towards them._

_Hermione finally realized her mouth was hanging open. She snapped it shut when she felt Ronald put his hand on her shoulder. He was trying to turn her around and steer her back to the stairs._

"_Cripes that was nasty! Sorry you had to see that, Hermione. How about if we just call the Dungeons 'All Clear' for tonight? I don't know if my stomach could handle another view like that."_

_Hermione had agreed and allowed Ronald to lead her back up the stairs and towards the Gryffindor Common Room. She was silent the whole time he ranted and raved over the 'disgusting Slytherin slags' and their mutual hatred of Malfoy and his cronies. Over and over in her head, she saw Draco's hand disappearing under that skirt, and heard his voice growling her name…_

'_Granger…'_

Needless to say, Hermione's dreams for the next few nights, combined with the smirks and winks she intercepted from him over the next several weeks after that, had ensured an unhealthy obsession with the snake's hands, his eyes, and his mouth. By the beginning of Sixth Year, Hermione admitted she had developed somewhat of an admiration for Malfoy. Physically, not mentally. He still was a snarky, snide arse. But then again, it had been a long time since he'd personally insulted her. She hadn't heard him call her 'Mudblood' in ages. After being paired with Malfoy in several Potions assignments by Professor Slughorn, Hermione admitted a grudging mental attraction to his intelligence and attention to detail. Only concerning Potions, though.

By the time Christmas in Sixth Year hit, and Ronald was in a full-fledged physical relationship with the Resident Gryffindor Whore, Lavender Brown, Hermione finally gave in to the notion that she was infatuated.

She, Hermione Granger, had a crush on Draco _Freaking_ Malfoy.

Godric help her.

Now in their Seventh Year, living together and sharing the same Common Room, having EVERY SINGLE FRIGGIN' class together, and dealing with all the responsibilities that came with being co-Heads, Hermione felt the weight of her crush… well, crushing her. It was getting so painful she could hardly breathe around him anymore. She had to constantly watch what she said, lest her traitorous mind stop filtering what came out of her mouth.

At this point in her desperation to express her longing in some tangible way, and anticipating tomorrow's Quidditch match, Hermione had snagged Draco's tie and set up her post in the window to watch him practice (not in a stalkery-type way, just because she wanted to WATCH him without an audience), and set about to paint her toenails Malfoy Slytherin Green. She might have Gryffindor red fingernails, but under her trainers, she alone would know who, in her sad, lonely, muggle-born heart, she really wanted to see win. Not Slytherin, no, she was still a Gryffindor girl through and through. But she would love to see Draco finally beat Harry. She'd love to see the joy on his face, she'd love to see his eyes glowing with pride, she'd love to wrap her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist…

Hermione sighed as she capped her red nail polish and used her wand to quickly dry her nails. Much as she enjoyed painting her nails, waiting for the paint to dry was… well, it was as boring as waiting for paint to dry. And she needed to get started on her toes so they could be safely covered in socks and shoes by the time her co-Head returned.

Looking out the window again, she noticed the trees of the Forbidden Forest swaying in the breeze. Hmm, it really was a beautiful, windy day. The evergreens of the forest gave way to intermittent accents of red and gold, all dancing merrily in the fall wind. The sun shone, her favorite playlist was coming through her speaker, and she could spend these few indulgent moments soothing her aching heart.

Radiohead's 'Fake Plastic Trees' gave way to her favorite Keane song. She was halfway through with her first foot when she realized she was in minor trouble, listening to this kind of music while indulging in her secret adoration. As her speaker wistfully declared a desire to go "_somewhere only we know_" she found herself growing more and more melancholy. Feeling her throat tighten and clog, she decided to distract herself by singing along as she brushed Malfoy Evergreen across her big toe. Getting to the end of that, she started on her other big toe as Snow Patrol's 'Chasing Cars' came on.

Fucking hell! This music was going to tear her apart. Hermione was looking forward to becoming an adult so her adolescent weaknesses and bloody HORMONES would settle the Hell down and allow her to get on with her life. Regardless, she sang along as she painted.

It really was a lovely shade of green…

Draco strode up to the Portrait that concealed the Head's Common Room, broom in hand. His hair was scattered every which way, and his cloak was ripped. It had been bloody awful out there. The wind had picked up so much that he'd had to cancel practice. He might have tried to continue if Nott hadn't gotten blown backwards right off his broom. His Chaser had narrowly avoided breaking his back when he'd flipped over and landed in the mud in the posture of an angry scorpion.

According to Madam Hooch, the wind was supposed to die down later this afternoon, so Draco and his team would finish their practice after dinner. It was a damn good thing he'd reserved the Pitch for the entire day. Potter had booked the Pitch all day yesterday, so at least he wouldn't have to work around the damned Gryffindors. Draco loved the advantage the Common Room window had that overlooked the Pitch. He'd spent most of yesterday afternoon secretly watching the Gryffindor's practice. Most of the past hour he'd spent with his team had been coordinating their moves in preparation for the Gryffindor strategy.

"Stupid bloody wind," Draco growled. The elderly female resident of the Portrait, a former Headmistress, raised her eyebrows at his profanity.

"Sorry. Grindylow," he muttered. The Portrait didn't swing open. Instead the old bat waited for him to make eye contact with her. He frowned. Did the password change? Then, she winked and put her finger to her mouth in a shh-ing gesture, and swung quietly open.

"_Show me your garden that's bursting into life"_

Draco's heart skipped a beat. Hermione was sitting somewhere in the Common Room, singing! Not just singing, but wistfully, heartfully, beautifully singing his favorite song from his favorite album.

He quietly laid his broom on the floor, looking for the source of the song. There, in the window. What was she doing? Potions homework? The room smelled bloody awful. Like acetone and lacquer…

Oh, she was painting her toenails. And singing his favorite song. Draco swallowed to clear his tightening throat. She had a lovely voice. Hell, she had a lovely everything. He'd been in abject agony for so long over this perfect, exquisite girl he currently lived with, that it seemed like having a twisted aching heart had always been part of his life. He knew he wasn't going to be able to last much longer. It was just getting too damn hard to keep all of this longing bottled up inside.

For the past, what, nearly three fucking miserable years now, he'd been trying to do everything he could to keep his unwanted, and surely unwelcome, adoration for one Ms. Muggle-Born Extraordinaire Granger under wraps. But living with her, and spending 75% of his day in close contact with her, was wearing him down. It wouldn't be too much longer before he'd break down and ruin their tentative friendship. There was absolutely no way a glorious, genuine, amazing girl like Hermione would give him a chance. He'd done so much damage in their early years he was honestly amazed she tolerated him now. He appreciated their study-time together, their partnerships in their various classes, and their camaraderie as Heads. But he also noticed the way she stiffened up when he got too close to her. Even sitting on the same couch as her seemed to bother her. Draco figured he wasn't the best bloke at reading people, but if there was one thing he could tell, it was that Hermione Granger wanted nothing to do with him _that way_.

But as he stood quietly in the entryway, listening to her singing along with his favorite freaking love song, the song he'd spent his miserable summer at home listening to over and over again while looking at her picture in the Hogwarts Yearbook and wishing desperately that he could just hurry and grow the fuck up so he could ditch all this adolescent angst and his bloody HORMONES, Draco considered that this might be a good opening to a deeper friendship. If they had musical interests in common, maybe Hermione would be open to talking to him more. Maybe he could SHOW her, if she'd just give him a minute's chance, that the bigotry and anger that had shaped his amazingly nasty childhood was really and thoroughly _gone._

If anything, maybe he could finally at least get the chance to thank her for that. It was after all, entirely because of her.

Draco quietly paced closer to her.

"_I need your grace_

_To remind me_

_To find my own…"_

She was bent forward, facing outward toward the Quidditch Pitch, painting her toenails a deep green. Her iPod was docked in a portable speaker, and lying propped up against it was…

His tie. His black and green uniform tie. No one else in Slytherin wore ties like his, so he assumed she must have found this one out here in the Common Room and not gone and procured a Slytherin tie of her own. Why did she have his tie? He noted that the deep green of her toenails matched the tie when she pulled the end of the tie towards her completed foot to admire the color.

Draco's stomach lurched. She had Gryffindor red fingernails, but she was painting her toenails Slytherin green. Not just Slytherin green, but his family's signature Evergreen. She was perched in the window seat overlooking the Quidditch Pitch, listening to love songs and painting her toenails to match _his tie_.

Holy shite! Had she been watching their practice? Had she been watching _HIM_ practice? Draco's body burned hot, and he felt himself grow uncomfortably light-headed as the implications hit him like a rogue bludger.

Hermione was painting her toenails his personal House color to support him for tomorrow's match. Sure she'd painted her nails to support her own House team, but she wouldn't be walking around barefoot tomorrow. This clandestine act was for her own benefit. Like an act of rebellion.

Like writing a girl's name over and over again in Gryffindor red ink to help ease the ache in his heart and indulge in the luxury of writing his crush's name. His crush. He snorted. How utterly juvenile. She was, at this point after so damned long, at least worthy of being called his _beloved_…

Oops. Draco saw her back stiffen. She'd heard him snort! Bollocks!

"Draco!" Hermione gasped. Her eyes filled with tears as her face flushed red-hot. He was standing right behind her!

Ohmygodohmygodohmygod this was so way beyond embarrassing! Even the most obtuse idiot could figure out what her little nail painting act meant.

"Hi." Draco shuffled his feet, trying not to make eye contact with the girl who sat before him. He had seen that look when she'd realized she'd been discovered. When she knew that he knew…

"_Forget what we're told_

_Before we get too old"_

Draco could see that she was in full-blown-ready-to-bolt-and-cry mode, and he desperately didn't want that to happen. He leaned in and carefully, cautiously, placed one shaking hand on her cheek. Hermione's face crumpled and tears leaked down her face.

"I like your toenails." He smiled at her. No smirking, no winking, just an honest, simple smile. He did NOT want to scare her away. He brought his other hand up, and carefully swept her braid back over her shoulder, then continued upwards to cup her other cheek.

"It's not… it's… I just like the color," Hermione tried to lie, but she could see that no one in the room believed her. No one, being the boy that was standing two inches from her, holding her beet-red face in his hands. His hair was a mess, and his cheeks were bright pink. Gods, he was so close! And he was touching her. His hands were cool on her heated face. Hermione felt like her insides were shriveling. Apprehension and outright fear were lurching through her. And he just kept getting closer! Hermione felt like an antelope caught in the stare of some predatory cat. Paralyzed with fear, and mesmerized by his beautiful silver eyes.

"_All that I am_

_All that I ever was_

_Is here in your perfect eyes, they're all I can see"_

Draco felt a little undone by the whole situation. Hearing these ridiculously perfect lines at the same time that he was rapidly losing sense of himself while staring in her deep golden eyes, he decided to just ask her.

"How long?" he whispered. He couldn't keep eye contact with her, his lashes lowered as he felt the blush on his cheeks deepen.

"What?" Hermione's confusion was evident.

"How long?" He gestured with his right hand towards his tie and her feet, and watched awareness dawn on her red face. She changed color as the blood drained from her face. Now she was a pale white.

Poor girl. She was afraid. Draco rubbed his thumb cautiously across her cheek and down towards her mouth. She gasped, and more tears leaked out.

Hermione felt her chin wobble as she told the truth. "One year, six months, eight days." She figured she might as well be exact as she ratted herself out. Draco's left eyebrow lifted and his mouth popped open. She closed her eyes in defeat.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. This was way beyond embarrassing. Maybe she could withdraw from Hogwarts and transfer to a school in America to finish her education. There was no way she could finish the school- mmmpph!

Soft, warm lips pressed firmly against hers. She gasped and her eyes flew open.

He was kissing her! Kissing her mouth. She, Hermione Granger, Muggle-born Extraordinaire was being kissed by Draco-Prince-of-Slytherin-Malfoy.

Totally overwhelmed in the pleasure of his attentions, Hermione threw her arms around his neck and dragged him even closer.

Draco was doing some quick math in his mind. Spring of Fifth Year? May? What had happened in…. oh. The only event that stood out in his mind was that one night he almost gave his damn secret away when she and the Weasel caught him snogging Ho-Bag Greengrass in the dungeons. Draco had been frantic, after more than a year of pining for Hermione, to end his obsession with her. Snogging girls that were the exact opposite of Hermione, safe Slytherin girls who didn't have any expectations from him other than a quick fumble in the dungeons, had been one route he'd taken to ease his hormones and to keep him from dragging the High Princess of Gryffindor into the nearest broom closet and exposing himself to her ridicule or scorn. Or risk getting his arse kicked by her pack of Gryffindork friends.

When he'd pulled his head up from Greengrass's filthy mouth, she'd been standing there, all innocent and shocked, blushing pink. He wanted her so badly then. Back then it had still been more than 50% lust that attracted him to her. But these days… Lust was definitely still a part of this, but damn it, he _loved_ being around her. Working with her, quietly being in the same room as her, sharing the intimacy of cohabitation… He loved every minute of their life together.

Draco felt his body responding to her, and broke away from her mouth before he lost his mind completely. He pecked her mouth quickly, once, twice, and then her nose, then her forehead.

"Two years, nine months, fourteen days," he whispered as he rested his forehead against hers. Gods it felt amazing to be this close to her!

"WHAT?" Hermione stiffened and straightened up to look him in the eye.

Draco's cheeks blushed dark pink, and his lashes dipped down again to cover his eyes.

"Two years, nine months, fourteen days." He could practically hear STALKER in that simple statement. Who the Hell had a crush that lasted that long?

But looking into Hermione's blazing golden eyes, Draco assured himself this was no crush, and he was not a stalker. He was in love. Clear and simple.

"Really?" Hermione squeaked. She did some quick mental math while trying to calm her racing heart. Wait, that long ago… that was Christmas time of Fourth Year! Whoa… Hermione blushed bright scarlet.

"The Yule Ball?" she asked. Draco nodded.

"Really?!" she squeaked again.

Draco cleared his throat and shuffled his feet.

"Yea, really. I'd never seen anyone as beautiful as you before that night. With your hair all curled into ringlets and those pretty blue robes…" Draco chuckled.

"Brought me to my knees, it did. Even though you looked like an angel, I don't think I've ever lusted after a girl like I did for you that night. And it lasted for _ages…_And, nearly three years later, well, here we are." Draco gestured rather grandly around them, and then rested his hands on her hips. Hermione was clad in a long sleeved T-shirt and a pair of plaid Gryffindor boy-boxer sleep-shorts. He could feel, through the thin fabric of her sleep shorts, the heat of her skin. Merlin, she was so warm…

Hermione gulped, loudly. This, this… _dream guy_… the undisputed Prince of the entire school (well, Harry aside, since he never really fit in that role like Draco obviously did), just laid out a confession of a three-year crush on _HER_!

"You're not messing with me are you?" Hermione asked cautiously.

Draco frowned. "Nooo… why? Are you messing with me? Because honestly, Princess, I don't think I'm ready for that level of practical joking between two friends."

Hermione spluttered indignantly. "Princess? Why in the world would you call me that? And no, I am most definitely not joking. This is far too, uh, delicate and, well… embarrassing, I guess…"

Draco watched her face as it went from disbelief to flushing awkwardness. She really was innocently adorable. His… _HIS_ Gryfinndor Princess. There was no doubt that Hermione Granger was the undisputed Princess of the entire school. Head Girl aside, she shone head and shoulders above all the other girls in this school. Her grace, charm and class alone endeared her towards the Professors, and her constant good humor and sometimes over-bearing helpfulness garnered her respect from the underclassmen. Among their contemporaries, she was the sharp-tongued leader of the Golden Trio. Not Harry, no indeed. He might be The Boy Who Lived, but everyone around them knew that without Hermione Granger, he'd be The Boy Who Flunked Out of Hogwarts and Learned Nothing but Quidditch. Yes, this girl who currently was running her fingers through the hair on the back of his neck and looking up at him with such trust and hope in her eyes, _she was his Princess._

And so he told her. Truthfully, candidly, and ardently, Draco outlined his many reasons why he adored her, and why she was his Princess. He also used the opportunity to kiss her ripe pink lips as much as she would allow. He had her giggling in moments, and gasping for air in a few more.

"Soo, Princess… Honestly, Draco, I didn't realize you'd noticed me, outside as a verbal punching bag or walking dictionary." Hermione hooked her left leg around the backs of Draco's legs, dragging his lower body in closer to hers.

"Mmm, don't forget my new use for you: iPod charger. I haven't been able to listen to any good music since we got here and mine died. If you've found a way to keep yours alive, then you are my new favorite girl." Draco oh-so-casually picked up Hermione's white iPod from the docking station in her speaker and started flipping through her playlist.

"You have an iPod?" Hermione squeaked.

"Yes, but it's dead as a doornail now. How do you keep yours charged? This has a full battery." Draco was insanely jealous of her music listing, she had a lot of good stuff in here. He scrolled down to the Snow Patrol song she'd been singing along to, and set it to play again.

"My parents sent me a miniature solar panel for my birthday last month," Hermione smirked at him. She. Smirked. At. Him. Gods, she was adorable. Draco tweaked her nose. She giggled and batted his hand away.

"You really are brilliant, Princess. Only you would think to solve the Great Hogwarts Electronics Puzzle with an alternate energy source. And you have absolutely wonderful taste in music. Where do you keep all of this stuff? Did you bring a laptop? Wait, do you have internet access?" Draco was rapidly distracting himself by the possibilities here, and failed to notice Hermione's mouth falling open.

"Draco, how do you know about all this stuff? I didn't think you lot were into Muggle technology?" Hermione asked.

"What do you mean, 'us lot'? You mean us Slytherin, Pureblood, bigoted arseholes?" Draco was rather offended, but tried not to be too disappointed. After all, they'd spent so much of their lives tormenting each other, a little backsliding was to be expected. He was just glad it wasn't him who'd offended her. Yet. He wanted to get a little bit more of her sweet, curvy body wrapped around him before he managed to piss her off.

"Oh, no! No that's not what I meant at all. I mean more like, you full-time, born-into-it, full-fledged, all the way magical, wizards. Take Ronald for example, or anyone in his family, really. They act like cars and toasters and telephones are some kind of zany, futuristic martian technology. Every time Ronald gets on the telephone he shouts into it like it's a megaphone!" Hermione pulled her hands down from his neck and scratched at her temple self-consciously.

"Oh… Well, I guess it's your fault, really. By the end of Fourth Year I kind of realized there must be something to the Muggle World if it produced someone like you, and I decided it was time for me to learn. I didn't figure I'd impress you very much if I ever got a chance to talk to you, knowing only what I knew then. So that summer, I started wandering. My Aunt Andromeda helped me a lot. You know, my Uncle Ted is Muggle-born."

"Oh yes! I've met them! Tonks, errr… you know, your cousin Nymphadora? She's one of my good friends!"

Draco's eyebrow lifted in disbelief. He'd only met his elusive cousin three times, and they'd all been within the past few years that he'd taken up his secret communication with his Aunt and Uncle. Not that his Aunt and Uncle _knew_why he was so eager to learn about the Muggle World, but he was pretty sure they'd figured out that he was trying to get into the good graces of one Muggle-born or another. But none of his extended family had ever mentioned their association with Hermione. Draco figured that might be because of their infamous history from their early Hogwarts years.

"Wow, I didn't know. Good to know though. At least some of my family already likes you then." Draco wasn't going to lie, he knew his parents wouldn't be thrilled with his long-standing choice of dream-girl, but he'd grown closer to his Aunt and Uncle in the past few years than he'd ever been with his folks. He hoped this would lessen the blow of his impending excommunication from the Malfoy line. At least he'd have a place to go. Aunt Andromeda had assured him he'd always be welcome in their home. Thank Merlin, because he might have to move in this Christmas.

"So, Aunt Andromeda taught me how travel through London via public transportation, then she took me to the movies, to bookstores and music shops, and even some concerts. Mostly classical, but last summer I saw Radiohead, and Muse, and even went to Wales for a bluegrass festival. That was interesting..." Draco thought of something else.

"I can drive. A car, I mean. I actually own one, an M5." He said proudly.

Hermione gasped. "You can drive? I can't drive! My parents wouldn't allow it until after I graduate!"

Draco grinned broadly. "I know something you don't know! And it's a _Muggle_ something! That's got to be a first."

"Oh Godric, I'm so jealous!" Hermione wailed, covering her face with her hands. How unbelievably unfair! Just because he was filthy stinking rich and could do _whatever_ he wanted in his free-time… Her head popped up.

"Wait a second… Draco? Why did you bother? You can apparate, floo, portkey or ride a broom anywhere in the damned world. Why would _you_ bother with driving?" Hermione's eyebrows puckered in confusion. Why would a wizard even want a car?

Draco reached up to smooth the wrinkle in her brow, and was thrilled with the way she leaned into his touch, encouraging the contact. "Well… it's a damned lot of fun, and, I figured it might help my chances if I ever did manage… I mean, I can't exactly show up to a Muggle house on a broom, now can I?"

"But the Tonks's don't even use a car. Don't you just floo or apparate to their house?" Hermione's hands were unconsciously sliding back up around his neck as her leg shifted up higher around his. She saw his face turn slightly pink again, as he shuffled that little bit more closely to her and dropped his left hand to her right knee, sliding up to the hem of her sleep-shorts. Hermione gasped at the heat that seemed to radiate from that most intimate connection. His hand on her skin, sliding up her leg. It was exquisite.

Draco cleared his throat, and then leaned in to kiss her softly on the mouth. "Hermione, I have thought so much about this. Merlin knows I've had enough time to… Anyway, it occurred to me that if I ever did get the chance to be with you, that I had three choices. I'd either ask you to leave the Muggle World and your family behind, or I'd join you in the Muggle World and leave my family behind, or I could be like you. You straddle both world's so easily, so seamlessly… Why not me too? So, here we are. And I don't know if I can go back, Hermione. I know I don't want to. So, in answer to your question: I learned how to drive, not to visit my Aunt and Uncle, but so that, um, I could come visit you. At your parent's house. You know, um, if you'd want me to." Draco felt himself blushing a deeper pink, and ducked his head to kiss her again.

Hermione's mouth was open in a shocked O, though. He'd learned to drive so he could see her? At her parent's house? Godric, even the boys hadn't bothered with something that… _thoughtful_… _reasonable_… _respectful_… Hermione's heart thumped loudly. His actions, if they could be believed – and here Hermione went with her gut, the part of her that had fallen for him in the first place – were the actions of not a boy with a crush, but of a man. In love? The words fell out of her mouth, her damned filter must have finally died.

"Draco, do you love me?" Hermione couldn't believe she'd just said that, but in this morning of confessions and revelations, she shrugged off her discomfort and met his eyes.

Draco, on the other hand, gulped. Of all the secrets he'd been keeping, this was his oldest, and his dearest. But it was hers, after all. With a shudder, he whispered, "Yes."

"Oh." Hermione felt very light-headed, all of a sudden. Harry and Ron loved her, her parents loved her, and the Weasley family loved her, but this… She trembled as she felt his hands skim up her legs to her hips, and up her back. She sucked in a quick breath, _oooohhhh…_And then she smashed her lips into his and kissed him for all she was worth. Her body scrambled up and closer to his, mashing their chests together as she ran her hands up his neck and into his hair to drag his face closer, impossibly closer to hers.

Draco felt her tongue flick out and slide across his upper lip, and opened his mouth to meet her. Sweet Salazar, she was _really_ kissing him. His dream, his fantasy, his fucking life's goal for so damn long he'd almost forgotten _why_ he'd done some of the insane, stupid, clandestine things he'd engaged in lately. Almost all of his secrets had poured out of him in these moments, and now that she knew that he _loved_her, maybe he could give her his last one. Well, on one condition.

"Hermione…" he groaned as he broke his face away from hers. From the pleading look in his eyes, she knew what he wanted.

"Yes," she said. "I do. Merlin, I really, really do." Tears leaked out of her eyes once again, but these tears weren't of shame or fear, they were of sweet, blissful relief.

And it felt. So. Damn. Good.

To lift that heavy, crushing secret off her shoulders, to give her heart and trust into his care, it was heavenly. Hermione smiled at him, a great, blazing, glorious smile that stole his breath away and made his heart thud in his chest. Gods, he could spend the rest of his life doing everything he could to get her to smile at him that way and die a happy man. And she loved him. Hermione Granger, his Princess, _loved_ him!

What a crazy day. Draco fitted his mouth across hers again, wrapping his arms around her and crushing her to him. He lifted her up, and her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist to keep from falling. He laughed into her mouth as he spun her around in a circle.

'_Mine! All mine!'_ He crowed in his mind. And it was lighter than air, lighter than any moment in his entire convoluted life, this moment here with her wrapped around him like a spider monkey. The morning sun was still shining on the window seat where Hermione's iPod perched next to his tie and her bag of nail polish bottles. Only a few minutes had gone by since he'd interrupted her little painting session. A few minutes, and a lifetime's worth of changes. Draco stopped spinning before he could get too dizzy and pushed her up against the wall next to the window. With her legs still wrapped around him, and her hands stroking through his hair, he lost himself in her kiss…

"Knock knock, hey 'Mione you want to – Holy Hell!"

Draco jerked, and reflexively set Hermione down and spun to face the interloper. He groaned. It was Potter.

Potter, who was standing in the middle of the room, having gotten an eyeful, Draco was sure, of his best friend snogging the daylights out of his greatest school rival.

Crap.

But Potter's shock was giving way to the biggest, knowingest grin. And it was directed at Draco! What the bloody hell? Shouldn't he be hexing him? Or at least charging across the room to try to kick his arse?

"It's about time, you two. Don't know how much unresolved sexual tension the rest of us could stand. I'd say get a room, but, well, you're already in here, eh? Oi, Malfoy, you left the door open, you twit. And 'Mione, use protection, eh? See you crazy kids at dinner!" And with that, Harry Potter saluted the co-Heads and exited the room, chuckling as he closed the portrait hole behind him.

"What the Hell?" Hermione and Draco said in unison. They looked at each other, blushing and confused.

"Did that just happen?" he asked.

Hermione nodded. "I think so."

"Crazy day," he said, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He really wanted to get out of his Quidditch gear, for cripes sake he was still wearing his greaves and bracers. Bending to attend to this, he used this opportunity to give her his last secret. It was all her fault, anyway.

"Sooo, there's really only one more thing you should know about me that you probably don't know, or haven't figured out," he said conversationally. After snapping off his greaves, he rose back up to face her as he unclasped his bracers to pull them off his forearms. He rolled up his shirt sleeves and bent his left arm so she could see it.

Hermione looked down to see pale, unmarked skin. She looked up at him, confused.

"You know I'm not from the most trustworthy family, Princess, but I wanted you to know, I'm not a Death Eater." Draco unclasped his torn cloak, and unbuttoned the top few buttons of his shirt as she gazed at him in shock. A couple more buttons, and her eyes went unfocused and dark, which surprised and thrilled Draco. Apparently he was turning her on? Gods…

He opened his shirt to reveal his chest, pale and unmarked… Wait, what was that? Right over his heart, a silver and gold… something, shivered and unfolded its wings.

A phoenix tattoo. The symbol of the Order. Hermione gasped, and stumbled backwards.

"Draco! What? You're in the Order?" Hermione's shock was so profound it was almost funny.

"Yes, is that okay?" Draco asked quietly. "I figured since my Godfather is, I might as well too. Since I have so much access to insider information because of my Father… And especially since I love you so damned much I'll do anything to protect you from what's coming." His shirt dropped to the floor as he closed in on her and pulled her into his arms.

Hermione was gaping at him with her mouth open. Hmm, not the reaction he was expecting.

"But, but, but… You're only seventeen! How did you get in already? I'm older than you, for Merlin's sake! Oh Godric, I'm so damned jealous!" Hermione pushed away to look at, and stroke his tattoo. The little phoenix shivered and opened one golden eye to gaze at her.

So pretty. Then Hermione realized she had her hands all over Draco's naked chest, and her eyes flew up to his. He was smirking at her.

"So, of everything that's been revealed today, the two things that seem to have caught your attention the most have not been my creepy, years-long secret obsession with you or my devotion to learning all things Muggle, but my ability to drive a car and the sparkly tattoo on my chest." Draco used one finger to push her mouth shut.

Hermione poked him in the ribs.

"Oh come off it, Draco! You know this is a lot to take in! And I don't think you're creepy, I think you're very sweet and sincere, and…" At this point Hermione swept her fingers across his chest and around to his back, making him shudder against her.

"And I think you're absolutely perfect, Draco Malfoy. Maybe not for everyone else, but Gods, you've spent so much time and effort changing your life for me. Me! I'm completely blown away, Draco." She reached up and kissed the smirk off his face, pushing against him until he took the hint and started backing up. And up, and up, the steps to his room, door pushed open, hands fumbling at clothing, and whispers of love and heat and passion as they tumbled into his bed.

Later that evening, Draco kissed her goodbye and headed back out to the Pitch to join his team with a most ridiculous grin on his face. Hermione settled back into her window seat to repair her smeared and messy green toenails. She flicked her iPod back on, and set her favorite playlist on again. The sun was getting ready to set, washing the evergreens of the Forbidden Forest with deep golden red. She considered her toenails; it really was a lovely color. So, with a flick of her wand, she changed her fingernails to the same Malfoy Evergreen. Might as well support her guy. No more secrets, not between them, not as far as the rest of the world was concerned.

He was hers, and she was his.

The End


End file.
